


Date Night

by darlinghogwarts, MaddyHughes



Series: The Great Hannigram Escape [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Dating, Drunken Kissing, DrunkenKissesChallenge, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Fluff, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, borscht
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7239319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlinghogwarts/pseuds/darlinghogwarts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyHughes/pseuds/MaddyHughes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hazards of dating in Lithuania.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a role play on Twitter between @legohannibal and @william_grahams. It is part of our ongoing role play where Hannibal and Will are evading the law and living together in Lecter Castle with a growing collection of dogs (including Gail and Kalos).
> 
> It is much longer than the #DrunkenKissesChallenge 1000-word limit. We love breaking the law.

They’re coming back from a walk along the river with the dogs, when Will suddenly says, “Maybe you and I should go out for dinner.”

“I would love that,” says Hannibal.

“Are you certain the food will be up to your standards, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal smiles. “I am very careful about what I eat. But a good restaurant is always a pleasure. Especially with a congenial companion.”

Will smiles in return, glancing at Hannibal as they walk. “Is this our first official... date?”

“Do you know...I think it may be?” Hannibal considers. “I had you for dinner several times in Baltimore. You possibly didn't see that as courtship at the time.”

“... Courtship? That early?”

Hannibal merely says, “I'll pick you up at seven.”

**

Hannibal is ready an hour early. While he's waiting for Will, he wanders through Lecter Castle, needlessly straightening objects, shelving books, checking his tie. Kalos pads at his heels, sniffing curiously at everything he touches.

“I'm not nervous, Kalos, if that's what you're thinking. I'm looking forward to dinner very much. I'm merely...anticipating.”

Will gets ready, and stares at himself in the mirror. He is wearing a navy blue three-piece suit. He shaved his beard. His hair is neatly combed. Will sighs as a single curl escapes, knowing that fixing it would be futile.

Gail, previously jumping around the room, runs up to him and stares. Will feels as if even the little terrier can sense his nervousness. He takes a deep breath, and looks at the time. Five more minutes. Swallows.

Hannibal checks his watch for the fifteenth time. He says to Kalos “It's not as if I have to impress him—I've already impress...I mean, he already knows the worst of me.And, I hope, the best.”

He checks his appearance in the mirror once more. “Perhaps I should have worn the orange tie.”

Upstairs, Will stares at the one hair curl in dismay. He looks at Gail. “This is impossible.”

Downstairs, Hannibal says, “I definitely should have worn the orange tie.I wonder if it's too late to change.” He checks the time again, and starts pacing.

Kalos sighs and sits down, cocking his head.

“You're right. I'll change my tie. Perhaps the handkerchief as well.”

Hannibal goes up the stairs two at at time to their bedroom, Kalos at his heels. The door is closed.

Inside the bedroom, Will sighs. He looks at Gail. “ am being stupid. I am a grown man, and I need to face this.” He takes a deep breath, walks across the room, and opens the door.

He runs straight into Hannibal, letting out a muffled "Oof".

Hannibal grabs Will's shoulders to steady them both. And then he gets a look at Will, and he does actually stop breathing.

“I'm so—” Will stills as he notices Hannibal's expression. “Hannibal?”

“You are...you look…” Hannibal bites the inside of his lip. “You are…”

“I am... sorry?”

“I…”

Hannibal looks handsome. Incredibly handsome. But when does he not? Will swallows. “I... I like your tie.”

“I was coming up to change it.”

Will smiles. “It looks very good.”

“I won't change it. You…” Hannibal takes a deep breath. “You look very... I like that suit. I like that suit on you.”

Will resists the urge to straighten out his clothes and fix his hair.

Hannibal resists the urge to touch that one, perfect, escaping curl on Will's forehead. “Let's go.”

  
Hannibal thinks of extending his arm, or taking Will's hand; one seems too formal, the other too intimate. Instead, walks down the stairs beside him, inhaling the scent of Will's shaving lotion, stealing glances at him.

Will alks beside Hannibal, practically radiating nervous energy. He steals a glance at Hannibal. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words dry on his tongue. He wonders how he functions on a daily basis, living with such an attractive man.

On the way out the door, Hannibal barely touches Will's elbow. Will doesn't need an escort; he's perfectly capable of walking on his own. The fact that Hannibal craves to touch him is irrelevant. Nor does he need to open the car door for Will, though he hesitates when they reach the car, and it's only Will's quick movements to open the door and get in, that stop him from performing this ridiculous, old-fashioned courtesy. He swallows and gets behind the wheel.

Will steals glances at Hannibal as he drives. He tenses as he notices Hannibal's hands tighter than usual on the steering wheel. Hesitantly, he says, “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is perfect. I've been looking forward to spending an evening with you.”

“So have I. We haven't been able to do this before, and I'm very happy that we're doing it now.”

“Why haven't we done it before? I like dates.” Hannibal likes dates, and he enjoys dates, and he /never gets nervous/ on dates, and should he have mentioned previous dates?

He sets his jaw.

“I suppose we had a lot of other things to deal with.” Will looks at Hannibal. His hands are tighter on the steering wheel. His jaw is clenched. It is more attractive than it should be. He closes his eyes as Hannibal grips the steering wheel and unintentionally flexes his arm muscles. Why does he have to be so attractive?

“Shall I put on some music?” Hannibal asks.

Has his voice always been this sensual? “Music would be lovely, thank you.”

Hannibal touches a button, and Beethoven fills the car. It fails to relax him.

Will swallows. Tries not to look at Hannibal. Fails.

“So…” Why doesn't Will say anything? Hannibal clears his throat. “We're nearly there.”

Has Hannibal’s accent always been so deep? “...It's a nice night.” Will resists the urge to throw himself out of the car for saying that.

“It is, isn't it?”

Will doesn't trust himself to say anything. He nods.

Hannibal sets his mouth in a line. Why is Will being so frustratingly, maddeningly, unreadable? What is he doing wrong?

Hannibal's jaw is clenched, his lips are tightened into a line, his posture is tense. Will wonders if this is what Hannibal looks like when he is truly angry. When he's the Ripper. Will hastily looks away, swallowing heavily.

Hannibal pulls up to the restaurant and switches off the ignition. He dares to look at Will again; he's gazing out the window. “Well. Here we are.”

Will nearly screams. Why hasn't Hannibal _touched_ him yet? “Oh—Are we here?”

“Yes. Are you...hungry?”

“Hungry? Yes. I'm... hungry.”

“Right. I mean...good. Let's go.” Hannibal composes himself and gets out of the car.

Will slowly gets out of the car. He's resisting the urge to fix his hair. He glances at Hannibal. Swallows.

The restaurant is quite an unprepossessing building, looking like an ordinary house. Hannibal opens the door for Will, catching another whiff of his aftershave, and follows him down a set of stairs. The basement dining room is dark, intimate, lit with flickering candles, walls lined with wooden panelling, tables covered with white cloths. Hunting trophies hang on the wall: stag heads, boar tusks, stuffed fish.

However, Will is barely paying attention. His attention is focused solely on Hannibal, walking closely behind him. His smell is intoxicating.

A woman appears from the depths of the restaurant, wiping her hands on an apron, talking rapidly in Lithuanian with Hannibal, their converation too quick for Will to understand with his limited grasp of the language.

The woman suddenly embraces Hannibal and kisses each of his cheeks, and then she does the same to Will. She talks at him rapidly and he catches the word 'castle' and 'welcome'.

The woman leads them to a secluded table, in a crevice under a stone arch. Within seconds, she is back with two small glasses and a bottle of clear liquid. She pours a measure into each glass, and waits.

“It’s slivovitz,” Hannibal explains. “Plum schnapps.” Hannibal raises his. “ _Į sveikatą_!”

Will raises his glass and does the same. His eyes remain on Hannibal as he downs his drink, his Adam's apple bobbing.

The woman puts the bottle on the table and leaves them to go to the kitchen. The restaurant is nearly deserted. It's very quiet.

Will looks at Hannibal, and smiles, trying not to feel awkward. “This place. I... like it.”

“I'm glad. What about the slivovitz?”

“The slivovitz is also very good. Quite strong.”

“Would you care for another?”

Will needs a drink. No, no. He needs many. Anything to calm him down. “That would be great.”

Hannibal pours another measure for Will, who drinks it down. For a few moments, there is silence.

“Lithuanian cuisine is based largely on pork and potatoes,” begins Hannibal, “with liberal use of wild berries and mushrooms. I'd expect a first course of borscht, probably cold this time of year, with perhaps dumplings to follow, and…”

He notices exactly how Will's blue suit brings out the blue in his eyes, especially in the candlelight.

“And?” says Will. He has already forgotten what Hannibal just said. Have his eyes always looked so warm?

“...I can't remember. What was I saying?”

“I…” What had Hannibal saying? He doesn't want Hannibal to think he wasn't listening.

At that moment, the woman walks in again. He suddenly remembers. Will blurts out: “Lithuanian cuisine. You were talking about... Lithuanian cuisine.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

The woman places a plate in front of each of them. She smiles, fills up each of their glasses to the brim, and goes away again.

As soon as the woman leaves, Will downs his drink.

Hannibal picks up his spoon. “This is cold borscht—beet soup—with sour cream and dill, and a hot potato. The potato is for textural and thermal contrast. Are you...all right, Will?”

“Yes. Yes, fine.” He takes a spoonful of soup. Hannibal is watching him closely.

“Is there something on my face?” Will asks.

“No, you're...I... I'm glad you're enjoying it. Some find borscht an acquired taste.”

“It's very good,” says Will. “I love it.”

“I love y—” Hannibal looks down at his soup. “I love it too. Its Lithuanian name is _Šaltibarščiai_.”

Will’s more relaxed now. The slivovitz certainly did its job. Carefully, he repeats the name. “ _Šaltibarščiai_. Am I saying it right?”

Why is it so sexy when Will Graham speaks Lithuanian? Hannibal nods, quickly, and spoons his soup. Will pours himself another drink.

“That slivovitz is quite strong, Will.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Yes, it's quite strong. But I am also strong.”

“Of course you are.” Hannibal furrows his brow. “Will, are you...nervous?”

“Nervous? I'm not... nervous. This is just dinner. Our first real date, but we have dinner all the time, don't we? Same thing.” Will downs his drink.

“That's what I thought. We have dinner all the time.” Hannibal nudges bottle of slivovitz to one side, away from Will, as the woman arrives to collect their plates. She says something appreciatively to Hannibal before she returns to the kitchen.

“What did she say?” Will asks.

“She said that she's glad that you like her slivovitz, and that it is homemade, and that she'll send us home with a bottle.” He nudges the bottle further away from Will. “So, what have you been doing this afternoon?”

Will spent the afternoon thinking about tonight, thinking about Hannibal, and doing some exercises to calm himself down. That is, he paced around while Gail followed him. But that isn't what he says to Hannibal.

“I thought about... things. Dogs.”

“I also thought about...things. Not dogs, I'm afraid.I mean, I thought about Kalos occasionally, as he kept sitting on my feet. But otherwise…”

“But otherwise...?” echoes Will. What are they even talking about?

“Otherwise, I was thinking about…”

Will. He had been thinking about Will. Will's hair, Will's mouth, Will's hands, Will's way of speaking, Will's leaps of imagination, Will's whistling when he thinks no one is listening, Will's accent, the way the candlelight flickers against Will’s skin and warms it, the way Will’s jaw moves as he chews, Will’s laughter, the crease that appears between Will’s brow when he reads, Will’s soft breathing at night, the pulse that beats in Will's neck, the scent of Will after an afternoon in the woods, the way Will strokes the dogs. Will.

“I was thinking about perhaps doing some renovations on the castle,” Hannibal says.

“The castle is already magnificent. Breathtaking.” Will pauses. “Do you have any idea how magnificent you are?”

“I—”

The woman reappears, laden with food. She puts it down in front of them, plate after plate after plate.

Will continues, his Southern accent slightly breaking through. “You aren't just... magnificent. You are _incredible_. Incredibly... hot.” Takes a bite of the food without looking at what it is. “I mean—the food is very hot.”

It’s a cold dumpling. “What did you just call me?” Hannibal asks.

Mortified, Will reaches for the bottle and downs a shot. It gives him courage. He reaches over to pick up Hannibal's glass. Takes a sip of the drink, right where Hannibal's lips had touched the glass.

Hannibal's breath is coming faster. He licks his lips, his eyes fixed on Will's mouth.

Will finishes Hannibal's drink, and smiles.”I'm sorry. That was rude.”

Hannibal clears his throat. “It's all right. I'm driving, anyway. You…” — _Are driving me insane—_ “...you should eat something.”

For a few minutes, they eat in silence. Will chews slowly, and swallows. “As utterly delicious as this is, I will...always prefer your cooking over everything else. And you. I will always want you more than anyone or anything.”

Hanniabl’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “I...I love you, too.”

“You know that... thrill? When one takes the life of another. You make me feel more alive than that.”

Hannibal puts his finger to his lips “Darling—the people here may understand English.”

“You are like a... a fairy,” says Will, suddenly struck by the idea. “Or something. An angel. A very hot angel though. A demon? Because of the fire. So you'll be hot.” He reaches over the table and takes Hannibal’s hand. He has to concentrate quite hard to do it. “You have very nice hands.”

“Thank you. You...keep calling me hot.”

Will puts Hannibal's finger in his mouth, and sucks.

Hannibal’s breath stutters. He nearly groans. “Will...the restaurant…”

Will sucks harder.

Beginning to smile, Hannibal says, “Will, you are drunk.”

Will shakes his head. “Noo.” But the movement makes him dizzy. He stands and stumbles towards the direction of the bathroom. Hannibal watches him go, unsure whether to be amused, aroused or dismayed.

Will stops, turns around, and walks over to Hannibal. He grabs his tie, and gently tugs. “Come with me.”

“To the lavatory? Do you...require help?”

Will doesn't answer. He tugs harder. Glancing around the almost-empty restaurant, Hannibal gets to his feet, and goes with Will.

The door closes behind them. Clumsily, Will starts unbuttoning Hannibal's shirt.

“Will,” Hannibal whispers, “I feel the same way, but you’re drunk and this isn't wise. This is a conservative country, and we want to remain inconspicu—”

Will kisses Hannibal. He groans and kisses Will back, hungrily.

I don't care if you're a fairy,” mutters Will. “This may be a conservative country, but I'll fight for you. Just let me see your wings.”

Hannibal breaks the kiss, and gently but resolutely puts Will from him. “I don't have wings, Will. We should go back to the table.”

“But do you breathe fire?”

“Only figuratively.” Hannibal straightens his clothes, neatens his hair. “Come back to the table, eat a little bit more to soak up the alcohol. We can talk about wings and fire all you like.”

Will merely kisses Hannibal again, winding his fingers through Hannibal’s hair.

“William…”

“Yes, Doctor Lecter?”

Hannibal is seriously beginning to have doubts about being able to walk across the dining room without his arousal being evident.

“I don't want to be rude to our hosts.”

Will kisses his neck and presses against him, his body urgent. Hannibal groans, but gathers all his will and resolve and gently pushes Will away from him “No. Not now. We will go back to the table, and we will eat a little more, and we will say goodbye to our hostess and thank her. And then we will make our excuses and leave. And I will do whatever you would possibly like me to do to you...in the car.”

Will pulls away from Hannibal abruptly. “Fine. _Fine_.” He stumbles out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Hannibal shakes his head, tidies himself, and follows Will to the table. On the way, he encounters their hostess, who is looking concerned. He smiles at her and speaks quietly and cordially. While Hannibal is talking to her, Will pours himself another glass. He quickly drinks it. Pours himself a second glass.

Hannibal glances over, and his eyes widen. He goes to the table, frowning down at Will. “We're leaving.” He takes the glass from Will's hand.

“I don't want to leave anymore.”

Hannibal’s eyes flash dangerously, and his mouth thins.” You don't have a choice any more.”

Will doesn't move.

Hannibal takes a deep breath, realising a change of tactic is called for. He slips into the chair next to Will, and murmurs into his ear: “Numylėtinis, do you know how much I adore you?”

“If you adored me, you'd let me see your wings.”

“You may see all of me.” He picks up a forkful of food and holds it to Will's lips. “Do you know, I have been dreaming all day of watching you eat?”  
Will takes a bite of the food Hannibal is holding to his lips. “This is very good.”

“Isn't it?” He holds up another. “I was nervous to go on a date with you. Can you believe that?”

Eating, Will says, “I was nervous too. Very nervous. I wasn't thinking about dogs.”

“And I wasn't thinking about renovating the castle.” He holds up a mushroom dumpling between thumb and forefinger, and slips it between Will's lips. “I was thinking about you.”

“Do you know what you do to me?” Will asks, chewing.

Hannibal lowers his voice. “Do you know what _you_  do to _me_?”

Will stands up and whispers, “I want to kiss you.”

“Outside.” Hannibal puts his hand in the small of Will's back, and walks with him to the exit. The woman smiles and nods at them...as they pass.

" _Prašome grįžti kitą kartą_!" she says. " _Aš neduosiu jums śliwowicę_!"*

Hannibal steadies Will as they walk up the stairs to the street. Will groans, and leans heavily on Hannibal. As soon as they're close to the car, he tugs down on Hannibal's tie and kisses him.

Kissing him back, Hannibal murmurs, “One moment, mylimasis. Get in the passenger seat, and then we will do all that you desire.”

Will clumsily opens the car door and gets into the passenger seat. “Seatbelt, Will?”

Will ignores the request and reaches over to kiss Hannibal. Hannibal kisses him back, and then firmly pushes him into his seat. “Five minutes. Put your seatbelt on.”

Will glares at Hannibal. “No.”

The slivovitz makes him fiesty. Even more so than usual. Hannibal leans over and kisses Will very thoroughly, whispering, “I want to drive us to somewhere secluded. And then I want to do things to you that will make your eyes cross. Is that acceptable, Will?”

Will slowly pulls the seat belt, and stares at it, confused. How does one...put on a seat belt? He stares at it for a moment, and buckles in the latch, hoping he did it right. Then he loosens his tie, and tries unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling. Frustrated, he makes a strangled noise. “ _Hann'bl_.”

“Don't worry, _gražus berniukas_. I'll do all of that for you.” Hannibal starts the car.

Will shifts in his seat. “Drive faster.”

Hannibal drives faster. At a secluded area in the woods, he pulls off the road, stops the car, and turns off the headlights, so the only light is the moonlight shining through the trees. “Now. Did we have some unfinished business, William?”

Will frantically unbuckles his seat belt and practically pounces on him, tugging on his tie. “Hann'b'l. _Hannibal_.”

“Shhh.” Hannibal gently pushes Will back into his seat, then leans across him and hits the button to recline the passenger seat right back, as far as it will go. Then, with an agility belying his size, he clambers over the middle console and gear stick to the passenger side, where he straddles Will and looks down at him, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “Now. What was it you wanted?”

Hannibal is suddenly on top of him, and Will forgets to breathe. His eyes, warm and beautiful, are shining. The moonlight...highlights his features, and Will thinks for a moment that such beauty should be impossible. “I…”

He tugs on Will's tie, for a change. “Yes?”

Will kisses Hannibal, desperately.

Hannibam murmurs, “Was it your shirt you were eager to unbutton? Or mine?”

“My clothes. Your clothes. I don't like the clothes. I want to get rid of the clothes.” Will fumbles with the buttons.

“I like the clothes very much. Of course, my favourite part of presents has always been the wrapping and unwrapping.” He pulls Will's tie out from his collar, and unbuttons his waistcoat.

Will groans, and claws at his shirt. “Hannibal....”

He deliberately tugs Will's shirt from his trousers and unbuttons it, but leaves it on his shoulders, open.

“Your shirt... “ Will gasps. “Your shirt.” He unbuttons the top few buttons of Hannibal's shirt, but it's too _slow_. Too slow.

Hannibal removes his own tie and throws it into the back seat. Shrugs his jacket off and does the same, and slowly unfastens his waistcoat. Impatient, Will makes a frustrated noise and pulls Hannibal down for another heated, desperate kiss.

“I need to feel your skin. Who invented buttons? Can we eat him? We can make... We can make... something. Or other. A recipe.”

Hannibal pulls slightly away “I don't know. I'm of a mind to punish you, William, for your behaviour in the restaurant.”

“Please, Hannibal.”

“Please what?”

“Please take off your clothes, please touch me. Please, I want us to make love, and I need you to kiss me.”

“I'm not certain I understand.”

Will groans.

“That's a little bit clearer.” He runs his hand down Will's naked chest. “Would you care to elucidate further? ‘Please’ in Lithuanian is ‘prašom’.”

Will moans, tangles his fingers in Hannibal's hair, and kisses him.

“Hmm,” says Hannibal. “Still a little fuzzy on the details.”

Will groans, arching up against him, and lightly bites his neck. “Hannibal, _prašom_.”

“Say it again.”

Moaning: “ _Prašom_. Please, please, _prašom_ , Hannibal.”

“Now, kiss me like you mean it.”

Will pulls Hannibal down and kisses him thoroughly, desperately. He bites down lightly, and kisses him again. Hannibal groans, with only a thread of control left. “Harder.”

He pulls on Hannibal's hair to angle his head to the side, and bites down on his neck. Hands shaking now, Hannibal tears at his own shirt, popping several buttons, and throws it into the back seat.

“You don't have wings,” says Will.

“William.” He reaches for Will's belt buckle. “It's time for you to stop talking now.”

“You can't stop me from talking if I want to.”

“I can keep your mouth busy doing other things.” He unbuckles Will's belt and unfastens his trousers. Desperately and more than a little awkwardly, he works on removing the rest of his own clothes in the confined space of the passenger seat. Will runs his hands over Hannibal's skin, kissing and biting and leaving small marks.

“I...like date night,” Will groans.

Breathless, Hannibal replies, “Me too.”

**

Quite a long time later, Hannibal lies heavily on top of Will on the passenger seat, trying to catch his breath.The car windows are all steamed up, and Hannibal has a cramp in his leg, and also an indentation in his knee from the seatbelt buckle, and he has bumped his head on the car roof so many times that he probably has a bruise there, but he is sated and sweaty and happy. He kisses the damp curls on Will's forehead.

Will is breathless. He smiles as Hannibal kisses his forehead, and leans up to kiss him again.  
Dreamily, he says, “No wonder you breathe fire.”

Hannibal laughs. “You are still drunk.”

Will glares. “I am _not_. It isn't my fault you're hot and breathing fire. Look at the car windows. They're fogged up, Hannibal.”

Hannibal kisses his nose. With his index finger, he writes “William” on the steamed-up car window. Will grins and draws a plus sign below his name, and writes "Hannibal" under it, and a giant heart around both their names. “I love you.”

“I love you,” replies Hannibal. “Let's do this every week.”

“I would love to do this all the time.”

“Next time, though, you drive, and I'll drink the slivovitz.”

“Okay. That sounds good. But I'm still saying that I'm not drunk. I'm not.”

“Of course you're not, darling.” Hannibal looks around. His clothes are all crumpled in the back seat. His shoes appear to be missing. “Hmmm.”

Will kisses his neck. “Is something wrong?”

“Er...no.” He reaches over Will's shoulder to try to reach his boxers. Will cranes his arm behind the seat and snags them. “Here you go.”

“Thank you, darling.”

Suddenly there's a rap on the window and a bright light shines into the car.

Will blinks at the harsh light and turns his head away. Hannibal narrows his eyes dangerously and rolls down the window.

The police officer standing outside shines the flashlight straight into Hannibal's face, and then trains the light into the car, over Hannibal's naked body, covered with scratches and bites, and Will's near-naked body, his clothes open and dishevelled, his hair in disarray, his mouth red from kissing.

Will grins and waves at the police officer. “Nice night, isn’t it?” he slurs.

Hannibal holds up his boxers in explanation, and smiles charmingly. “ _Radau savo šortus dabar. Mes ruošiamės eiti namo_.”**

The officer outside says something curtly that Will doesn't understand. Hannibal sighs and nods. He opens the door and gets out of the car, naked, boxers in his hand, shutting the door behind him.

Will sits up slowly, groaning as the world around him spins. He looks down. He's wearing only his unbuttoned shirt. He decides not to bother with finding the rest of his clothes, and looks outside the window curiously.

Hannibal has put on his striped silk boxer shorts, and stands otherwise naked and barefoot, breathing into the policeman's breathalyzer unit. Will squints, and stumbles out of the car.

Pleasantly, Hannibal says, “Will, there's no reason to get out of the car; the officer is just about to let us go home.”

Will leans heavily against the car, and takes deep breaths. “I need... some fresh air.”

Hannibal smiles charmingly at the officer, and hopes that Will won't try to talk about puppies or fire breathing.

The police officer looks from Hannibal to Will and back again, obviously trying to keep his face serious.

Will suddenly straightens. “I think I can hear a dog.”

“I think it's probably Gail, Will. We're not far from home and he must miss us.”

Will takes a few steps to the left, looking at something behind the car. He bends down to pick up a small puppy.

“You found a dog,” says Hannibal incredulously.

Will looks at Hannibal pleadingly. “Can we keep it? _Prašom_?”

“How? How do you manage to find a dog, everywhere you go?”

Will hugs the puppy close to his chest. “I don't know, but I want to keep her.” He scratches her ear, smiling as she licks his face.

The policeman flushes bright red. "Oh," he says in heavily accented, broken English, "is my dog. Angelas. Dog must not go in police car, but is baby. Angelas...sad, alone. So I take with me in car."

He holds out his hands for the puppy.

Will walks over to the police officer and embraces him. “You are a good man.” He hugs the police officer tight, and slurs, “Good man.” Pats his back. “Adorable dog. Broke the rules because for the puppy.” Arms still wrapped around the officer, he turns to look at Hannibal. “Not rude. No dinner.”

The dog is squished between them. The police officer looks at Hannibal.

Hannibal watches Will, naked but for an open shirt, hugging the policeman. He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “Slivovitz.”

The policeman nods. "Ah," he says with perfect understanding, " _śliwowicę_." He pats Will on the back gingerly.

Will grins. “Good man. Can I have more slivovitz, Hannibal?”

The policeman says, "No. Is illegal drink too much _śliwowicę_. You go home, put on pants."

“We should do what the nice police officer says, Will. We wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of the law....And we haven't yet had dessert.”

Will lets go of the police officer, hands him the puppy, and stumbles towards Hannibal, leaning on him heavily. “Let’s go home. I’m getting cold.”

“Come, then.” Hannibal nods to the police officer over Will's shoulder, and helps his lover back into the car.

Will waves at the officer and the puppy as they drive by.

“Let’s do this again next week,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> *Translation: "Please come again! Next time I will not give you slivovitz!"
> 
> **Translation: "I've found my shorts now. We're going to go home."


End file.
